


Animals (Cause Maroon 5 was on my mind while writing this)

by Hobbit_at_heart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, there is death in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbit_at_heart/pseuds/Hobbit_at_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't think he can handle Sherlock being gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Animals (Cause Maroon 5 was on my mind while writing this)

John looked down at the notepad in front of him, shaking his head a little with a small frown "You need to come back Sherlock." John whispered, shaking his head a little "Please Sherlock.."

John threw the notepad across the room, letting out a shout of anger, standing up and pacing the living room of Baker Street. He glared at the little smiley face on the wall before he collapsed onto Sherlock's chair, a loud sob escaping his lips.

It had been 5 months since Sherlock had jumped. 5 months of lonely nights. 5 months of John locking himself away in the there.. His tiny flat with that skull Sherlock loved.

John never left. John never felt any emotion except for pain and emptiness everyday. He knew that he was becoming nothing but a shell that his soul was using until It died.

6 months rolled by, followed by 7, then suddenly it had been a year since Sherlock jumped. John got more and more depressed, soon becoming just a shell. John knew there was no hope for Sherlock but he held onto that little shred of hope in him that begged he didn't give up. That he would wake up in the middle of the night to hear Sherlock playing his violin.

John's hopes became nothing after a year and a half past. He sat in Sherlock's chair on a late Friday night. Greg had asked him if he wanted to get drinks but John had said he had other plans. John's plans weren't gonna be good but it would end all his pain.

John stared at the fire for a few moments before he grabbed the notepad he had before in those early months of the death. John grabbed his lucky pen and started to write a few simple words

_'I loved you Sherlock and I begged for you to come home.. And you didn't. So now I'm coming home to you. John'_

John placed the note in his hand as he lifted his gun to his head, biting his lip a little "I'm coming home.." He whispered. And once he shot the gun, his body fell limp on the chair.. But for once in that year and a half that Sherlock had been dead.

_He finally had a smile on his lips._


End file.
